Cantel laughed.
"I wouldn't take it so hard," he said; "everybody's doing it."
"I know," replied Evan, "but when I first came here Pen——"
"Forget it," said Cantel, turning to his work, "they need guys like you and me around here too much to kick over a kite."
So the "C" man thought. Every junior man seems to think that he is necessary to the bank. The older he grows the smaller he becomes in his own estimation, because in the bank's estimation. The bank understands the advantages of "depreciation" in stocks—and employes.
Before Evan could find a clerk who was willing or able to lend him enough to cover the cheque for eight dollars he had issued to pay board and buy a pair of shoes, Charon had set eyes on him from a distance and was beckoning to him.
The accountant had little glittering eyes. They shone out of his smooth, round face like boot-buttons from a lump of dough. He fixed them on the cash-book man.
"Mr. Nelson," he said politely, "I'm sorry to tell you that head office has just telephoned down and asked for your resignation."
"My resignation!"
"Yes."